Deeply Loved
by NothingImpossible
Summary: A short Captain Swan moment set some time in the future. Companion piece to "Loving Deeply" but can be read separately.
"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."
\- Lao Tzu

 **A/N:** I tried to write fluff. I really did. Apparently, some things are just impervious to pointed sticks.

 **Disclaimer:** Not my characters, not my world. Just my imagination borrowing them for a bit.

* * *

"This burns, Emma!" he whined loudly.

She laughed, careful not to move her face too much. "Come on, you big baby. It can't be the first time you've done this."

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "I can honestly say in all my years that yes, this is the first time I've ever participated in such an activity. Is this something normally done in this world?"

She shrugged. "It's not _ab_ normal, if that's what you're asking. Now quit talking so much and concentrate."

"Maybe I concentrate better while talking," he teased. "It gives me something to do with my mouth." He grinned, slowly pushing out his tongue, sliding it ever so slowly across his lips.

 _Oh, he's good_ , she thought, desperately trying to focus on not losing it right then and there.

"Cheater," she grumbled, her lips quirking upward on their own, betraying her tone.

"It's hardly cheating, love," he said, his voice dropped low. "It's not my fault I cause you to become so… _distracted_."

She blinked. "Dammit, Killian!"

"I win!" he exclaimed, slapping his hand on the wooden table. She rubbed her eyes with her palms to relieve the itching. "Shall we go again, Emma?"

She peeked out at him from behind her hands. "I think I need some time to recover," she muttered. "I can't believe you beat me, no one _ever_ beats me at staring contests."

He shrugged innocently and grinned. "I'm a natural, what can I say?"

And just like that, the moment ended, her chest constricting painfully, the smile falling from her face. She could feel her heart speed up, her pulse pounding in her ears, and she tried to take a deep breath to calm herself, but it came out too shaky, too stuttered.

He noticed, he always did.

"What's wrong, love?" He took her hand across the table, rubbing her fingers gently with his. "What was it this time?"

She couldn't speak, just shook her head quickly as she squeezed his hand, letting him know she heard him and would tell him when she was ready.

They sat like that for a moment, her gaze fixed on the swirling wood patterns of the table, his hand patiently stroking hers, until at last, finally, she managed a deep breath that didn't seem quite as unsteady.

"'I'm a natural,'" she whispered quietly, still not looking at him. She felt him nodding through her hand, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

"Ah, I remember," he said, his voice soft. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

It was getting easier, in general, to get over these mini-panic attacks she had on occasion, usually caused by something triggering her memory, _something_ in the way he died all those times in front of her. Two weeks ago, he nicked himself shaving, just a tiny cut, barely any blood, but it was there, on his neck, right where… She had a hard time looking at him as she healed it away. And on Sunday, she had overheard one of Henry's friends saying, "You stabbed me right in the back!" as they played video games in his room. Killian had found her on the porch step, her face pressed into her bent knees tightly as she focused on the ocean in front of her, and he'd stayed with her until the feeling passed, rubbing her back slowly the entire time.

She had talked to Archie about it, with Killian's encouragement, and he basically said the intensity would fade, in time. They had only just come back from the Underworld a couple of weeks ago, it was normal to be like this. It was getting easier, and he was so utterly patient with her, but it still happened, and she hated how scared she felt, how weak.

She let out another, steadier, breath. "It's okay," she managed, a little louder, a little stronger. She looked up at him and squeezed his hand tightly. "You're here now, that's all that matters, right?"

"Always, love," he said with a smile. "I'm not going anywhere."

His grin deepened. "Which is why you're just going to have to try harder if you hope to win one of these looking contests."

She coughed out a laugh. "Staring contest," she said, her tone returning to almost normal. "I already won the looking contest. I still remember how you were a drooling mess when you saw me in that tavern."

"Hardly fair, Swan," he snorted, "seeing as I was quite inebriated at the time, partially thanks to you if I recall. Bad form, tempting a man when he's drunk."

"Excuses, excuses," she said, waving her hand in front of her face. "I wonder what you'll come up with when I actually _do_ beat you."

"Never going to happen," he shook his head. "But, to be fair, _if_ you win, I'll do any chore you ask, for a week."

She laughed and leaned forward, placing her other arm on the table. "Oh, you're on, Jones. Let's do this."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're ready? Your eyes seemed a bit sore after the last round. I thought you needed some time to recover."

"I think I'm okay now, thanks to you." She smiled, no longer talking about just her eyes. She gave his hand another quick squeeze before releasing it to prop her chin on her fists. "And we've got all the time in the world."

He grinned. "Aye, that we do, love."

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded. "Always."

"Go!"


End file.
